Bobby's Certifacrit
by KilianaFelagund
Summary: Pre-series. Weechesters. "Uncle Bobby? Why arn you our real uncle?" Sammy asked kicking his feet back and forth under the table and into my legs. "Cause I aint you Daddy's brother." - Well. what are the boys possibly going to do about that? Sam is six. Dean is ten. Bobby and John still get along. No tags this time. Deans POV.
1. Chapter 1

I got this idea this morning and just couldn't shake it! I wrote it kinda fast but I really like how it turned out.

I promise I am updating "Sam's Brother" tomorrow. It is a nice long chapter for every one of you my patient followers! I read it to my friend and she got a kick out of it, so hopefully you all will too.

So, a note about this story. I have actually never written a first person, present tense story before. It was interesting and enjoyable. I hope you like it, lovies.

~Kiliana

* * *

"Wassa Certifispit, Dean?" My most annoying little brother blurted out as he hoisted himself up on the bed beside me. Granted he is my only little brother, but, seriously – I wish they had been made with an off button.

"A certify_what?" _I didn't bother looking up. I could see him well enough in my mind. Floppy hair, puppy dog eyes. No thank you, not looking.

"A certifispit! My teacher said they's whacha get when you are ficially sompthin. She gots a certifispit of teachin' so she can ficially teach." He explained. Oh I got it.

"No Sammy." I said in my best big brother voice. After all, I'm in fifth grade already! "It's not a certifispit, it is a certifacrit!"

"Certifirit?"

"No. Cer-tifa-crit."

"Oh. Do you gots any?" He badgered.

"hu-uh! But you do."

"REALLY!" and his eyes got really big. Like half-moons made out of chocolate – I didn't even have to be looking at him to know that.

"Yep. You got a certifacrit of annoying-little-brat-brotherness." I retorted and flipped the page. Yes! Go batman, catch that joker but don't fall for his stupid trap.

"D_eeean_!" he annoying little brother whined. "No I hasn't. You made that up."

"So what if I did, you _are _a brat." I say finally shutting the book with an annoyed huff because really, who can read with a little birdy chipping away in their ears.

"Dats mean. Daddy'll get you in trouble."

"Yeah right, cause Daddy don't know." There are some downsides to being the older. One of them being Daddy has a habit of siding with the baby and giving me lectures one being nice. I am being nice, but he _never _leaves me alone!

"I'll tell on you." Sammy sniffles, scooting off the bed and inching towards the door.

"You _are _a brat, tattletale!" I guess I wasn't really being that nice but annoying him and then calling him a brat. But why does he always tattle. I really do like the kid, it's my job to keep him safe. But we are at _Bobby's. _It's not like there are any monsters gonna get past him and Dad anyway. So maybe he could let me read for an hour. Is that too much to ask?

"Com'ere Sammy." I say softening my tone. "Why did you want to know what a certifacrit is anyway?" I settle back and lift my arm invitingly. Sammy is curled against me in seconds. It's really nice. Although because of standers I Do put him in a headlock and ruffle his mop for a second while he wriggles. I guess I didn't mean anything I said to him earlier. I was kinda mad that Bobby had made oatmeal. I HATE oatmeal!

Sammy settles 'comferabally' against my side after I finish torturing him and puts on his thinking face that looks really funny on a first grader.

"Well. Member what Uncle Bobby said at dinner last night?" He starts. This cant be good if it starts the same way half of Uncle Bobby's books do. _There is a great big problem in the universe. Remember the big bang? Now read this long boring book about gas and write a eight thousand page report and pretend like it affects our life and yada yada yada. _

"Sure, Sammy." I answer, because it is true.

**(the night before)**

"**Uncle Bobby? Why arn you our real uncle?" Sammy asked kicking his feet back and forth under the table and into my legs. **

"**Cause I aint you Daddy's brother." Bobby replied fondly despite the gruffness. He absolutely loves it when we called him uncle. I normally don't cause I'm too old for child's play anymore. I am a hunter.**

"**Like Dean?" Sammy said around his corncob.**

"**Yep. Like Dean's yer brother."**

**Sammy looked thoughtful. "But you act like our uncle." He said confused.**

"**Well, I'ma unofficial uncle." He replied and winked. **

(Back to the here and now)

"I wanna make Uncle Bobby a ficial uncle. So I wanna give'm a certifacrit." Sammy beams like a Christmas tree.

I look at him awkwardly. "How?"

"You's gonna make the certifacrit and we's gonna sign it." He nuzzles against me and slipped his arms around my waist adding a "please, Dean?" for good measure.

Absolutely Sam. I'll do _anything _for a request like that. But all I really say is "Fine."

About half way through the certifiacrit making (and it looked really o-ficial to me) Sammy – lying on his tummy with his face propped up on his fists and his thumb stuck in his mouth ("stop that. Only babies suck their thumbs.") – looks at me and starts spouting ideas again like normal.

"What makes _real _certifacrits real?"

"Um, the words and the paper." I reply. Of course he doesn't look like he believes me. "But. I wanna it to be real!"

"It _is _real. It would need our Seal." I reply. Sammy looks horrified.

"But _dean_!" he sobs and you would have though his puppy just died. (not that he had one – but that was the effect) "I don't _have _a seal. And teacher says they live in Anctartika!" the thunder shower stops as fast as it started and before I can say a word – "Who would want a Seal? Cause you needs seal blubber? And why would _anyone _wants seal blubber on a certifacrit?"

"Don't be stupid, Sammy. A seal is like a big important stamp that you stick in wax to prove it's really you." I explain, again as usual.

"Oh."

"Kings had seals that that proved they was kings over their kingdoms." I go on. I really do know a lot about history. I read all the history book at school, but didn't tell Daddy. Last time I got a good score in school I got in trouble. I forgot why. But Daddy was mad cause the teacher called him and said I was lazy. So I play dumb a lot. It is kinda fun to know things no one else knows.

"Can we make Bobby a seal?" Sam asks.

"No." I reply looking up sharply. "We would need mettle and a way to shape it into a seal."

"You could make it out of wood." He suggests. "Like you made my wooden dog for my birthday."

"I could whittle one? That would be hard!"

"But could you?" and he has those l pleading dean-can't-tell-me-no eyes turned on high.

"I _cooouuuld_!" and I basically seal (every pun imaginable intended) my fate right then. "What would he need a seal for anyway."

"A seal of uncleship over this uncledom." Sam replies. "It's gotta be a piture of you and me and Bobby all together. Cause he is our uncle." He continues. I roll my eyes because only Sammy would take 'I could" and make it say. "of course I will Sammy because I am you big brother and I am awesome" which, I am, so of course I'll make it.

Sammy screws up his face again. "You'll haffa make us holdin' hands."

"No. Way." I retort. "Aint no way I'm holding yer hand or Bobby's even in a picture."

"Fine." Sam retorts and goes back to reading his Dr. Seuss book.

I finish the certifacrit pretty quickly using Sammy's art pad and markers from his class. It looks really ficial and even has the impala drawn in the corner (that's my seal).

Making the seal though. That aint gonna be easy. First I'm gonna haffa draw the seal idea on the end of a smooth stick (I got tuns of sand paper) and then I gotta whittle it.

(Four days later and still in the here and now)

Sammy was exctatic. He had only been driving me crazy asking 'why, when, why, how, why, where, why, when…' for the last three days while I skinned my fingers raw for him.

But the seal is done. It's about two inches wide on the bottom of a six inch branch I stripped of bark. I even used it to stamp in some wax from one of Bobby's red candles I snitched.

There is Bobby (with his hat, Bobby would notice if I left off the hat) and Sam is on one side of him (long hair and holding Bobby's hand, the girl) and I'm on'da other side (I got a shot gun and I _aint_ touching that other hand!)

It worked real good after I sanded the bottom even so all the ridges press in at the same time. I'm actually kinda proud of it. But it has a few blood stains from my fingers on the smooth wood.

Sammy can't wait for dinner that's gonna happen any minute. He made me promise to wait with him until Bobby or Dad hollers for us. Wwwwwwhich they just did.

"Come on Sam." I say. All the way down he is tucked up behind me with his fingers hooked though my belt and his eyes hid behind his hair and the seal and slightly crumped rolled up certifacrit clutched to his thin bony chest.

Bobby and Dad give us a funny look and I feel a little embarrassed. I shouldn't have made _anything _cause now Bobby is gonna _know _I did it for Sammy and him and I'll be as good as a girl! But Sammy steps out after a minute and looks solemnly at Bobby.

"I gots a nounchment fer Bobby." He says. "Bobby, you's gonna haffa turn your chair round and look at me." He instructs since it in impossible to continue if Bobby doesn't, for some reason.

"Okay squirt. What's wrong?" Bobby asks calmly though I can tell both him and Dad are kinda panicked.

"The other night, you said you aint our Uncle so you gots to be our unaficial Uncle. So me and Dean (mostly Dean though I thought it up) made you a certifacrit of Uncleness so you can ficially be a uncle. Dean told me that to get a certifacrit you gotta pass a whole bunch'a tests and know what yer doin'. Well you kinda know what yer doin, and I think you pass the tests (you bought me lucky charms and you took Dean to look at knives. I know he loved it though he won't say)"

I kicked him for that, because that is what you're spossed to do when someone says something that girly about you (but secretly I'm glad he said it, cause it was _really _awesome!) I look at Bobby and _he has TEARS in his eyes! _Wow! Talk about girly! But it makes me happy and feel funny inside that he looks so happy.

"Here." Sammy holds out the rumpled paper and Bobby carefully opens it.

_Here-by this certifacrit saids:_

_Bobby Singer_

_Is a certifacritized Uncle for Dean and Sammy Winchester._

_Because he makes us food. He has really cool cars! He has books that Sammy likes. He lets us in even if it is midnite. He bys ice cream. He has guns. He has a TV and popcorn all the time. He watchs Sammy too. He likes the impala! He is good at fixing broken things. _

_Cos of all these things (and a tun of other cool stuff), Bobby is our uncle. _

_Dean Winchester. Sammy Winhcster. (big puddle of wax with a rough stick picture representation of them – gun and hat and all – pressed into it.)_

**(The words were wobbly and uneven. Sammy had clearly forgotten how to sign his name. The impala took up one entire corner. The wax was smudged and so were half the words. There were guns and lucky charms drawn all over the edges. Dean had gotten carried away on the good qualities and wrote off the page a few times so he had to cram it on as tight as possible at the end of every line. **

**It was the most beautiful thing Bobby had ever seen.)**

Sam taps Bobby's knee and draws his eyes away from the childish drawing he seems riveted to.

"One uther thing." He says quickly offering him the stick. "Dean made you a seal (not the fish thing from Anctartika) but a real seal so you could be a ficial uncle and this is yer uncledom!" laughing at the chiseled stick drawing, Bobby glances my way, so I look down at the floor and unnoticeable hide my heavily bandaided fingers in my pockets.

"Why's there stains?" I hear him ask Sammy. "Is it blood?" (So much for hiding them band-aids...)

"Dean kinda cut up his fingers digging the wood out of the places like the heads and stuff." Sammy explains simply.

Bobby chuckles at that – though it sounds strangely strangled – before he smacks his hand on my shoulder and Sam's. "Thank you boys." He rumbles. I can hear Dad at the other side of the table laughing. He must be reading the certifacrit I think. "I am honored to be your uncle."

"Good. Can we eat." Ahh Sammy, with his wonderful tact. Straight to the big issue here.

"Yeah. I'm starved." I agree sharply though my voice cracks right at the start and I'm afraid I'm gonna be found out as being soft.

"You bet." Bobby says in the same oddly cracked voice. Maybe Bobby is soft too! Tears, cracking voice… No, he can't be. He was way too awesome for that.

First he puts the two objects in his special desk drawer (where one night I found a picture of a pretty woman he looks at a lot) muttering sumpthin about "bloody idjits" and "good fer nothing" and "not gonna cry blast it".

Then it's time to eat and man I have never been happier to hide behind my spoon.

(and hour later but still in the here and now)

Sammy did all the talking though Bobby spent a lot of time watching me fumble with my spoon cause of my raw fingers. He didn't say anything.

When dinner is over, Sammy already left after announcing that he was gonna go play. He raced out the door with a quick, "Bye Uncle Bobby. Thanks fer dinner," and went upstairs. Dad went to research, so I offer to do dishes.

A second after I put my fingers in the soapy water, my entire body is shocked by unexpected agony and I somehow end up crumpled on the floor whimpering softly and trying to get the soaked wraps off of my fingers. It is freaking _painful_, and I can't actually see my fingers anymore because my eyes are full of tears. Suddenly bigger hands close over my own, the bandages are carefully pulled off and the trickling tears wiped away. I look right unto Bobby's eyes and smile through my pain. It is easier that way – hiding the pain with a smile – no one usually sees through it.

"Thanks Uncle Bobby." I say softly and I mean it.

He cuffs me gently on the side of the head. "Girl." He replies gruffly.

I grin back, some of the pain eased to oblivion. "Aunt." I retort.

He gives me a healthy shake and hauls me to my feet shoving a handful of unopened bandages in my face. "Wrap them yerself, idjit!"

I laugh but it turns sour as my fingers close around the Band-Aids. Of course Bobby wraps them up the second the whimper forces its way through my throat, so I simply let him.

Just as I am leaving he stops me.

"Dean. Thanks, kid. All yer hard work, I preciate it." He offers awkwardly. I know exactly what he is saying.

"Forget about it, Uncle Bobby. Wasn't nothing." And he knows what I am saying.

The fingers are totally worth it.

Family don't end with blood.

* * *

Thoughts? Comments?

Reviews, reviews, they feed my muse.

Who wants a second chapter featuring older Winchesters around season 3 perhaps?

Thanks for reading

~Kiliana


	2. Chapter 2

AN: So I had a suggestion that I should continue this with a clip of the episode "Dead Men Don't' Wear Plaid" when Bobby kicks the boys out. So this is from that episode and I watched the episode to get the dialog right. I added plenty. Anyway. I had fun. Tell me what you think.

Plus I've been writing quite a bit recently and will be posting more in the next few weeks. Should I continue this?

Feed my muse.

Thanks lovies,

Liana

* * *

"Keep your damn voices down. Karen's upstairs." Bobby hissed as the Winchesters followed him inside with their usual clatter.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Dean retorted and damn that kid needed to learn to have a little respect… "We're a little tense right now. Who's old lady Jones?"

"The first one to come up." Bobby answered uneasily. It was not hard to follow the logical path the brothers' were taking.

"First one to go bad." Sam replied letting the weight of his words settle.

"Ah, she was always a nutty broad." Bobby retorted purposely blinding himself to the argument.

"Nutty how?" Dean replied. Bobby was being completely illogical and it was not like him. "Nutty like the way she ate her husband's stomach? Was that the level of nutty she was in life?"

"No."

"Look, Bobby, I feel for you. But you have got to acknowledge that you're not exactly seeing this straight!" Dean hissed forcefully.

"Bobby, whether you admit it or not, these things are turning. We have to stop them," Sam said unhappily. Bobby's heart leapt into his throat restricting his oxygen. "…all of them." There he had said it. The hunter in Bobby acknowledged and accepted the boy's argument. He even applauded it. What they were dealing with was unnatural and they were behaving like a hunter should. But the widower in Bobby screamed in anger. NO! they would not take his wife, not again. The past blurred into one swirling mass and suddenly all the resentment he had ever felt at having killed his wife the first time was dumped on the two hunters behind him. In the angry haze his love for them was confused with his love for his wife and he lost track of it.

Calmly he drew out his gun and looked coldly up at the hunters he had helped form. "Time to go."

"What?" Dean replied, the shock of Bobby's words failing to sink in. How a man he would just as easily call father as call Bobby could pull a gun on him…

"You heard me. Off my property." He replied darkly hating the pain and betrayal clouding Dean's face and hating himself all the more. But the widower in him could not relent.

"Or what?" Sam demanded. Unlike Dean, who had never handled betrayal or abandonment well and was wearing his anguish clearly, Sam was reacting with anger. "You'll shoot?" He goaded calling Bobby's bluff.

"If Karen turns, I will handle it my way." The hunter replied pushing aside the widower's refusal to acknowledge that.

"This is dangerous." Dean relied. _You could get hurt. We can't lose you too. _Was left unsaid.

Bobby quietly cocked the firearm and adjusted his grip to one that clearly meant business.

"I'm not telling you twice." He warned meeting Dean's gaze squarely, already throwing him out with his eyes.

Sam's face twisted with anger and loss but Dean's walls slammed into place leaving his face vacant of that openness and trust that had always been given freely to the gruff redneck. The father in Bobby screamed in pain as Dean locked himself away, but he said silent and simply watched him leave. He had chosen his zombie wife instead of the orphaned boys who loved him as a father, and he knew it – and they knew it too.

SPN

* * *

"He's crazy." Dean vented hands gripping the steering wheel dangerously.

"It's his wife, Dean." Sam replied. His anger had faded leaving behind the clear thinking analytical scholar in its place.

"So he goes "Full Metal Jacket" on us?" Dean retorted "We're his family, Sam." _He is all the family we have left._

Sam cringed slightly knowing what Dean meant and feeling it just as keenly at those words. "Look, man. Bigger fish, okay?" _We'll deal with it later, he'll come to his senses._ "I mean, we got a bunch of zombies about to turn this town into a giant chew toy." _Focus right now._

"Yeah, and he's alone in the house making pie with one of 'em!" _He is going to get killed!_

"All right? So?" _What are you going to do about it?_

"So! I'm gonna have to go back there and… and… and kill her. That's the only thing I can think of." _I can't afford to lose Bobby too._

"If he sees you, you're a dead man." _You'll lose him if you do._

"Well, then, I guess I won't let him see me." And that was that. There was no underlying message. Dean meant it.

Sam groaned. "Okay. I'll... head to town and rescue everyone – should be easy." _We shouldn't split up._

"Sounds like." Dean replied. _I'm ignoring you._

"I'm gonna need some help." _I NEED YOUR HELP._

"What about the sheriff?" Dean retorted. _I'm still ignoring you._

"Uh, last time I checked, the sheriff was pretty pro-zombie." Sam replied giving up on his brother helping him.

"Well, I guess you'll just have to convince her." Dean smirked.

"How?" Sam exclaimed in exasperation. _Be logical, Dean._

"I don't know. You're just gonna." _Mr. Puppy eyes can do it. I am being logical._

SPN

* * *

Bobby had been staring at the same spot on the wall for hours. They were right. Of course they were, he had taught them to be hunters, well him and John, and they were two of the best. They were also his boys and he had thrown them out, damnit. And knowing them, and knowing John – well knowing Dean – He wouldn't, couldn't walk away from his family. Dean was not a hunter like John, or Bobby or even Sammy. He was not in the hunt for revenge, he was not out simply to kill – he was out to protect. He was a hunter out of love, not hatred. Yes, he had lost him mother, but he had saved his brother. And he wouldn't rest until Bobby was safe too. If Bobby was Dean, or at least in his shoes – he would be back and he would finish the job that Bobby could not. He was protect his family to his dying breath even if they hated him for it.

"Karen, stay away from the windows." Bobby shouted no knowing what Dean would be planning. "Karen?" There was a heavy thud in the kitchen and although he had not heard a shot, he instantly feared the worst. _Damnit kid! _With surprising agility he rolled himself to the kitchen to find his undead wife. Karen was lying on her side looking pale and gasping faintly, but apparently unharmed. _Damnit kid. You don't even do anything and you've got me pulling my hair out._

"Karen?! Karen?" He said as he approached her carefully but quickly.

She coughed hoarsely and looked lovingly up at him. "I'm… I'm okay." She didn't want to cause him anymore pain, she had already cost him so much.

"Yeah?" He wasn't buying it.

"I'm okay. I just... I'm okay. I – I just got a bit dizzy." She replied and his hand slipped to her forehead calling her bluff.

"You're burning up."

"Oh, I'm okay. I – I just need something to eat. And I'll be fine. Really."

It took some doing but he did finally manage to get her settled.

"Remember all those plans we made to have out little house where you could have your horse." Bobby said suddenly in a hoarse voice.

Karen smiled "Oh yes. I wanted a paint with big brown eyes."

"I never could stand horses." He chuckled. "In all those years you have forgotten, I never could stand them."

Karen brushed her fingers across his face knowing what was left unsaid, he might not know she knew, but she did know what he had done. "With you it was always cars. You liked machines." Her smile was forgiveness itself and he looked sadly away. "I use to draw the perfect home." She murmured. "With chickens and cats scattered carelessly through your junk yard of cars."

Bobby pulled away and rolled over to his desk. "I still have them somewhere." He grumbled as he dug through the clutter in the dusty drawer. Pulling out a handful of paper be grabbed the stack of colored pencil drawing before freezing at the sight of a little bloodstained stick of wood.

_The other night, you said you aint our Uncle so you gots to be our unaficial Uncle. So me and Dean made you a certifacrit of Uncleness so you can ficially be a uncle. Dean told me that to get a certifacrit you gotta pass a whole bunch'a tests and know what yer doin'. Well you kinda know what yer doin, and I think you pass the tests_

Bobby choked back a sob as his mind was assaulted but the image of a shy, embarrassed, but insanely pleased Dean hiding behind his bold, childish, girly, little brother. Dean with fingers scrapped raw from an act of pure love, and Sammy with his wild mop of hair and beaming eyes.

"_Sam, I was awake. I remember what I said. It was the demon talking. I aint never cutting you out boy."_

"Balls" he whispered remembering the anguish in Sam's eyes the day he lost the use of his legs. "I ain't never cutting you boys out." Gently he gathered the seal and certificate along with his wife's drawings and rolled back to her side.

"What's wrong?" She asked gently as he reached her side.

"I made a mistake. I don't know if I can fix it." He replied looking at the certificate fondly.

"What is that?" she tried to lever herself up but the hunger was growing and she found it hard to move. Bobby missed the worry that flashed across her face at her growing weakness as he stared intently at the scribbled page.

"It's my certificrit of Uncleness." He answered suddenly smiling.

_Here-by this certifacrit saids:_

_Bobby Singer_

_Is a certifacritized Uncle for Dean and Sammy Winchester._

_Because he makes us food. He has really cool cars! He has books that Sammy likes. He lets us in even if it is midnite. He bys ice cream. He has guns. He has a TV and popcorn all the time. He watchs Sammy too. He likes the impala! He is good at fixing broken things. _

_Cos of all these things (and a tun of other cool stuff), Bobby is our uncle. _

_Dean Winchester. Sammy Winhcster. (big puddle of wax with a rough stick picture representation of them – gun and hat and all – pressed into it.)_

He held it out so she could see. "Oh Bobby." She laughed. "You said you would ruin children, but look at you, you made them into men."

"...and I just threw them out." He coughed hoarsely and shifted uneasily in his chair. Karen smiled sadly at him and covered the hand holding the seal with her own hand. "Don't underestimate the power of their love for you." He reddened slightly at that, love was not a word usually used in conjunction with the boys. "You are their uncle, they will forgive you."

"You don't know those boys."

"I don't have to. I saw them with you, I talked to Dean outside when he was watching out for you although you didn't want it. They will forgive you."

Bobby took her tiny hand in his as she broke into a coughing fit again. Her fever was so high. "I'm so hungry, Bobby."

"I'll fix you something to eat in a minute." He replied setting the papers all to the side.

"I can feel it. It's happening." She whispered.

"Shh, it's gonna be alright." His grin tightened refusing to let her go.

"No. It's not. I'm turning, Bobby. You know I am." Her eyes were pleading with him to understand what he had to do. She didn't want to hurt him. His eyes followed hers to the gun on the table and hardened with refusal.

"It's okay. Do it."

"No way." He growled. He had shot her once and damned if he would do it again.

"Please." She begged pitifully hating her growing desire to consume his body.

"No." his voice broke slightly.

"I remember." She whispered to him.

"You remember what?" the dread at her words was audible in his voice. He knew what she meant but refused to believe it.

"Everything." And her eyes were firm with purpose. "The demon inside me. You killing me. I remember."

His world was crashing down around him. "Then you know... why I can't do it again."

"I remember something else, too. When I came back... There was a man."

The hunter was waking back up pushing the widower steadily aside. "What do you mean, a man?"

"At the grave. He was so thin. Like a skeleton. And he told me to give you a message."

"Me? W-why didn't you tell me this before?"

"You've seen so much. I just... I just wanted to see you smile." She watched as the husband was replaced by the hunter.

"What was the message?"

"This is all for you. Me, the others, it's all for you. When you interfere, you must be prepared to face the consequences. You must stop holding the brother's back from their destiny." Her eyes filled with tears.

"You don't mean that." He pleaded.

"He is wrong. I'm already dead. What's dead should stay that way. But the boys can still be protected. Save them Bobby. Save your only children."

"I – I'm trying." He breathed his breath hitching slightly.

"Dean will come. You know that. He will come to kill me to protect you and he will be right in doing so." She was more perceptive then he had given her credit for.

Her hand was shaking violently as she reached out and picked up the certificate of Uncle-ness. "Don't forget your family." Her fingers ghosted across the paper. "Please just… don't forget me either."

"I couldn't ever!" he promised.

"Then shoot me before your boy has to and you hate him for it."

With a sob he took up the gun and settled it against the side of her head.

"Please. I can't hold out any longer." Her fingers tightened on his empty hand – her eyes were pleading. "Don't let me kill you."

"I'm sorry." He whispered.

"I forgive you." She replied. …he pulled the trigger hardly hearing the bang through the screaming in his ears as he shot her a second time.

It took a moment for him to hear the voice and pounding footsteps.

"Bobby?!" and broken and angry as he was, he had never been to glad to hear a voice.

Unable to tear his eyes away from the bloody mess, he felt Dean's hand find his shoulder. He covered it with his own and set the gun aside. He had made his choice. He had chosen the orphaned boys over his zombie wife. He knew it – and Dean did too.

SPN

* * *

The next morning the brothers found him sitting quietly in front of Karen's funeral pyre.

"So, thinking maybe I should apologize for losing my head back there." He said gruffly. _For throwing you out. For turning my back on a lifetime of family and friendship. For taking away the only family you have left._

Sam with his big puppy eyes simply nodded and offered a quiet, "Bobby, you don't owe us anything.

While Dean, with his usual tact – or lack thereof – tried to be as understanding as he was capable of without getting all chick-flickie because that would be unbearable… "Hey, look, I don't know squat from shinola about love, but... At least you got to spend five days with her, right?

Bobby snorted quietly. He was sure right about one thing. He didn't know squat from shinola. "Right. Which makes things about a thousand times worse. She was the love of my life. How many times do I got to kill her?" The seemed to shut the kid up fast and Bobby almost apologized for the pained look that shot across Dean's face. He kept hurting the kid and he couldn't stop himself.

"Are you gonna be okay, Bobby?" Sam asked. Dean refraining from saying anything so he wouldn't hurt Bobby again.

Bobby weighed the options in his mind. He could lie and say he was fine, or he could tell the boys why this had happened, they deserved the truth. "You boys should know... Karen told me why Death was here."

"What do you mean?" Sam pried gently.

"I know why he took a stroll through a cemetery in the sticks of South Dakota." He took a breath. Knowing Dean and his protective streak, he wouldn't like this next part. "He came for me."

"What do you mean, you?" Dean asked sharply, anger clouding his voice.

"Death came for me. He brought Karen back to send me a message."

He could feel Dean stiffen hands clenched, ready to fight. "You? Why you?"

"Because I've been helping you, you sons of bitches. I'm one of the reasons you're still saying no to Lucifer, Sam." He shouted. It was so clear.

"So this was like a hit on your life?" Dean's anger was rolling off him in waves. It was comforting in a twisted sort of way. Bobby itched to turn around and give him a gruff hug like he did when Dean was a kid, but no, he settled instead into embrace of Dean's anger.

"I don't know if they wanted to take my life or... my spirit." He answered glumly. "Either way, they wanted me out of the way."

Sam tensed at that "But you're gonna be all right. Right, Bobby?" He was worried – anxious – sounded like a little boy with hidden brown eyes and missing front teeth, but Bobby didn't have an answer.

Those boys, they were the bane of his existence. Life would be so simple without them. But they were also the greatest gift he had even been given. He loved them like sons, it was as simple as that.

Would he be okay? He didn't know. But even if he wasn't, they would always be there to watch his broken back.

_Bobby found Dean curled up asleep in the corner of the library. His bandaged fingers had bled through the Band-Aids and he was clearly hiding. The gruff hunter bent over the stocky nine-year-old and brushed his shaggy hair back – kid needed a haircut, his hair was long enough to curl against his forehead already. "Hey tiger." He greeted the sleepy green eyes with the boy's pet name. "You hurt your hands helping Sammy set up the tire swing?" _

_Dean blinked slowly and then whipped his fingers out of sight. "m'fine." He mumbled._

"_Of course you are." Bobby replied long-sufferingly. Kid was exhausted and looked likely to collapse into sleep again any second. "I guess we wore you out today. Next time come get me if you're hurting your hands."_

_Dean nodded languidly without revealing his hands again. "mm'tire." He slurred his eyes closing._

"_Well, this corner can't be comfortable, let's get you to your bed." The redneck offered. But Dean didn't open his eyes or reply with more than just a shrug of his shoulders. Bobby drew out his hands and draped his arms across his shoulders. That seemed to wake Dean ever so slightly._

"_No. M'good." He muttered trying to pull his arms back._

"_I won't tell if you don't tell." Bobby answered chuckling and hefted the solid body up against his chest. Dean slumped wearily against him and let his head drop against his shoulder. The hunter staggered slightly to his knees and cursed the lad's weight. He was heavy with muscle thanks to John's training. "Ugh, you need to lay off the burgers. Let's get these fingers cleaned up." He growled heading for the guest bedroom where Sam was soundly sleeping._

"_Thanks Uncle Bobby." Dean sighed against his neck._

"_Anytime kid. Anytime._

"Come on." Bobby growled as the fire burned out around midnight. "Let's inside before you waste away from cold and hunger. How does pie and stake sound?"

Dean and Sam looked at each other in disbelief, wondering where the sudden change in demeanor came from.

"Bobby?" Sam finally said in reply.

"Hell, I ain't losing any more of my family today!" He snapped. "Let's go in!"

Sam grinned and Dean's body finally relaxed. "Thanks Uncle Bobby." He replied softly.

Bobby smiled at that. "Anytime kid. Anytime."

FIN

* * *

Good? Bad?

I'd love to know. Thanks lovies.

(I can't believe how season 10 ended... agh!)

Okay. Nevermind

Kiliana


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